Blurred Lines
by Delinquency
Summary: AU. Unwanted visitors, car crashes on memory lane, and constant passes by his roommate...the lord is testing him. Multi-pairing
1. Teaser

It's an ugly little niche in the world. A graffiti tagged building nestled in a less than favorable part of Detroit, the concrete structure was bordered by alleyways and cheap motels. A one-way street that crossed by the west end was under infinite construction and the orange cones continually had to be replaced as many ended up as wall décor in teenaged bedrooms.

It was a shoddy place, most likely a warehouse or a chop shop at one point in its miserable life. All of the windows were boarded over with bars as support. It was the kind of place people were smart enough to avoid. However, this was only during the day.

At night, like this particular Friday evening, it changed. Those lost souls with too much free time or needing a sexual outlet, this place became a haven.

It had no official name that anyone knew. It was like some secret that no one wanted to learn for fear of losing the magic. It had a couple nicknames for comprehensions sake, such as 'The Den' or '989'. In all retrospect, the building was nothing more than another club dotting the map. Yet, the place had a certain charm that seemed to attract those of all walks of life, from every corner of the globe.

Now, past the bouncers, ID checks, and a sloped decent to the basement later, there is basically only one rule. Respect the Gods. In this mix of lights, sound, and airborne STD's, there are two higher beings in which you must convoy every bit of reverence you can muster.

One, is the God of sound. The DJ and co-owner. Lars Morgens. Few people know where the man managed to materialize from. Originating from the Netherlands, Lars just appeared one day, bearing gifts from his homeland, and just fell in with the community. He was the guy that no one knew anything about but managed to find a place within any group.

The second, and more important to our little story, is the man who releases the hidden dancer, creates an opportunity for even the worst pickups, and probably has had a hand in an unfathomable amount of walks of shame.

That would be the bartender and the second name on the deed, Matthew Williams.

Matthew, a dual citizen of Canada and the United States, three years graduated from Michigan University with a Bachelors in Business and continuing to room with his roommate-

"Oi! Matt! Time to say my name bitch!" A loud voice shouted over the bar.

-Gilbert Beilschmidt, German, self-proclaimed Prussian. native whom immigrated to the states during his high school years. He managed to graduate by some miracle and now has a Bachelors in Architecture after six years of classes.

"Gilbert, I couldn't if I wanted to. I think your parents wanted you to stay a virgin." The blond rolled his eyes, his voice having a hard time overtaking the pounding bass.

The two of them were roomed together Matthew's first year, Gilberts second.

"Well, they failed….And I'll have you know my name just rolls off the tongue." He began to wiggle a pierced tongue in suggestive ways.

It was rocky at first. The two of them seemed to be at odds at all times of the day. Matthew was a straight-laced student, always with a nose in his books. He was careful to have his homework done well before due and polite to his peers, respected by his teachers.

"Seemed the guy the other night was having a hard time saying it too."

Gilbert was the exact opposite. Late night partying and sexcapades were his trademark. Often, the poor Canadian was kicked out of their shared dorm with some pocket change for the night. The albino man often ended up in class with dark shades, using the excuse of having naturally sensitive eyes when asked about it. His English education was excellent until he actually moved to America and learned of daytime television. Gilbert is often saying-

" 'Cause I'm so awesome!"

However, by the end of the second semester, the two of them managed an agreements of sorts and ended up becoming the best of friends who brought out new sides of each other.

"Look at you go! Props to me! I told him those bartending classes would pay off someday." He nudged the closest person, pointing towards Matthew who was currently spinning a bottle of tequila on his forearm before toss and catching it to pour shots for a trio of women. The blond professionally added a wink for good measure as he passed off the glasses.

It was true too. Matthew hadn't planned on bartending for a living. The Canadian had even admitted to not liking his major at all, but had kept at it for 'reasons'. Gilbert, being the awesome friend he is, pushed the impressionable man to night classes during intersessions and breaks for the hell of it. The German ended up quitting due to the fact that all the broken glasses started cutting into his beer money. Matthew had taken to it like a fish to water.

Checking to ensure all his _paying_ customers were settled, Matthew went and draped himself down in front of his roommate, mauve eyes meeting red.

"Something you need, _Gilly_?" He asked, placing emphasis on the nickname.

The other man wrinkled his nose at the word. "I see your seduction approach is a good as ever."

"Fuck you." The retort was grit out as he leaned back away from the offending person. His techniques were flawless_. Thank you very much…In fact.._. The black lights outlining the bar created a glare against his glasses, hiding a sudden gleam in his eyes.

"_Plu-leeez?_" The German whined.

Matthew seemed to ignore him at first, resisting the urge to grin to himself and grabbing a bottle from the iced down buckets behind him. Catching the red eyes again, he held the contact as his hands made quick motions. Gathering his black top, he used the fabric to remove the top and sent a preview of waistline to those fortunate enough to pay attention. The metal clattered to the floor but neither of them dared to break the stare.

Slowly bringing the brink to his lips, Matt took a sip of the beer, careful to let a small line drip from the corner of his mouth before nearly slamming it down in front of the other. His tongue flick out, cleaning off most of the liquid. With a smooth motion, he slid the beer over, making sure his fingers brushed against the lighter skin of Gilbert's own before retreating.

"How about…no" He purred before quickly skipping off to take care of a couple who meandered up to the bar.

Gilbert stared at the brown bottle for a moment before narrowing his eyes at his friend.

"That's so wrong. You owe the Tease Jar." He paused, before adding on. "That was worth, like, five bucks! In American Dollars!" Taking a generous sip of the obviously free drink, he began mumbling to himself. "Canadians…using good bier…cheap shot..."

The only answer he got was the drowned out sound of laughter.

Tsking, he began tackling his beer with vigor. " You don't know what you're missing." Gilbert mentioned as Matthew scurried by.

"And I'm fine with that." Matthew shot back as he worked the top off a bottle of vodka.

"Says the guy who got laid _once_ this year. It's Juni! I mean, even I will say that Kat chick is cool, but you two sounded so…." He paused, searching for the word he had learned from Jerry Springer. "…vanilla!"

Matthew went three shades paler suddenly his hand nearly dropped the _glass _of vodka he was now holding.

Gilbert noticed. "Was?"

"Do you want me to die?" He lowered his voice as best he could while still being heard over the beat. With his eyes, he motioned towards a large man who looked to be waiting expectantly. Matthew, not wanting to keep him any longer, carefully slid the glass to the man who thanked his curtly before treating the alcohol like water.

Gilbert waited with narrowed eyes, finishing his own drink with a significant gulp and nearly shattering the empty bottle on the bar. The bartender was quick to make his escape and remove it from his grasp.

"Yea. Now shut up about Ivan's _sister_!" Matthew hissed.

"I hate that arsch." He announced, not registering Matthew's words.

"Yeah. He stole your idea, ran off with the glory, _blah blah blah_."

"It's true and you know it!" Gilbert huffed indignantly.

"I _know_ that you two ended up with _similar_ ideas for your midterms and Ivan managed to actually _plan_ his out…with written details…and charts…like, you know, was required." Matthew kept his voice down as he mocked his friend. Ivan had taken classes with Gilbert, leading to their current one sided rivalry. Even without the degree under his belt though, the fair blond wouldn't have had much trouble making his way in the world.

That is, if the rumors were true.

Gilbert stared for a moment before looking like a kicked puppy. "Oh great…now he's brainwashed _you _with his Russian ways."

That sentence didn't receive a retort, however, the Canadian felt a kick to the back of his head as he remembered something very important.

Something that he should have addressed days ago.

Oh well, he had all night.

Gilbert was a regular here. Being roomed with one of the owners made him a demi-god of sorts to those who frequented this little hole in the wall. Needless to say, it wasn't long before he was over the ritual free beer/rejection of the night and finding new conquests on the dance floor.

All good things must come to an end though. Lars was sure to pass on the message very clearly.

"Four in the morning, ladies and Gents. Grab a buddy and get gone." The words were tossed over the intro of the last song.

Not that there were that many people left to kick out. More than two thirds of the populace had already cleared for other activities. Such as monopoly tournaments and sleepovers.

Gilbert took the hint and dashed back to the bar where Matthew was finishing up his cleaning duties from the last call. Sashaying back and forth, he began to mouth the lyrics with flamboyant hand motions.

_"…But you're an animal, baby, it's in your nature. Just let me liberate you!" _

Matthew just stared at the man as he absentmindedly polished the tabletop to a shine. Despite his best efforts, the blond couldn't keep a tug at the edge of his lips.

"Matthew, dearest, do me a solid?" Gilbert wiggled his brow and naturally fell into a cocky grin.

"What?" He asked innocently, not commenting on the horrific slang the German had picked up. Honestly, he didn't need to ask. The Canadian had been keeping an eye on his friend and could already figure out the next sentence.

He just wanted to hear it.

"You're really going to make me say it?"

_Oh yes_. Matthew just smiled.

"Don't come home?" The words were bitter as he felt his awesome rating slip a little for leaving his buddy out in the cold cruel world.

As any good friend would do in the situation, the Canadian put on the most hurt expression he could muster. "Gilbert. I thought we had something special."

"Well… if you wanna join…" He trailed off with a happy expression, looking as inconspicuously as possible over his shoulder. Matthew followed his gaze to the brunette waiting by the exit. The man seemed to be completely pissed drunk if the way he held the wall like a lover was anything to go by.

_Oh boy_

"Gilbert…" He warned. Matthew knew the man. He knew so much more than he ever wanted to know. Roderich was one of those people that either made no sense whatsoever or his level of thinking was on a plane far higher than his tiny Canadian brain could ever understand. Ninety-five percent of the time, the Austrian man hated everything Gilbert and lived a happy life with his girlfriend. Then there was that five percent of life in which the two of them ended up having hate sex. _Very noisy, Germanic_, hate sex. No way was he going home tonight. His face made that point very clear as well.

"Fine don't…your loss." Gilbert shrugged

"Just don't use my bed this ti-" Matthew was cut off by the German's victory pelvic dance that was accompanied by more lyrics.

_"You wanna hug me Hey, hey, hey…What rhymes with __**hug **__me?" _

Matthew didn't have the vocabulary to describe his current feelings. Thus, he simply ignored the German as he started to dance over to his nightly acquisition.

Until he remembered that very important fact he had been beating down for the past few hours.

"Gilbert!" He shouted.

"Yeah?" His face was hopeful. "Change your mind?"

Matthew tossed his rag at the man, watching it fall harmlessly a few feet away. "I need to you clean up well when you're done. My brother is coming in Sunday and will probably stop by unannounced." He said as if mentioning the weather.

"Gotcha." Gilbert replied halfheartedly before he realized one important fact. "You have a brother?!" He shouted well over the remaining din of the club, practically jumping back to the bar and effectively pissing off his partner.

Matthew had told him about his brother, right? It was kind of Introduction 101, right after names and life goals.

Okay. Maybe he had left that little bit out. It was for a good reason and if his brother hadn't wanted to visit it over seven years, well, more reason to leave him an unknown. Gilbert only needed to know that Matthew went home for Christmas, not who was there or who had gotten him that god awful sweater that probably came from the Salvation Army.

Oops.

"Yea…a twin actually." He finished sheepishly. Nail in the coffin.

Sex or finding out your roommate's life story. Sex or learning why one of your best friends never told you about the opportunity to have a threesome with twins. Sex or a possible long, awkward, and probably emotion talk.

Gilbert gave him a 'we are talking about this later' look while Matthew avoided eye contact with practiced ease.

If he didn't see it, it never happened.

Finally setting his priorities in a row, Gilbert gave one last meaningful look at his friend before heading back to Roderich. A shout over the loudspeaker was directed at him. A one fingered salute and a cackling laughter was the last they saw of the albino.

Hanging his head, Matthew began to envision multiple scenarios for the next week. None of them good. He knew his brother. He knew his roommate. One-on-one, he had enough sass to keep them in line. Together, his brain simply refused the possibility.

Plus there was _that._

He shuddered as he wiped away a mental image that threated to blind him.

Right. One problem at a time.

"Hey Lars? Mind if I crash on your couch tonight?"


	2. Morning After Kaptein Morgan

If there was one thing that most Germans could proudly claim, it would be their ability to drink and hold their liquors.

Beer usually being the poison of choice.

Thus, it was due to this reason that Gilbert believed himself hours from his untimely demise. He had only indulged in_ three_ beers the night previous...and one shot. Yet here he was missing his shirt, shoes, and hugging the porcelain throne making noises that crossed between a trapped puppy and a moose during mating season. Every now and then, human-like sounds would escape in the form of Germanic curses and English complaints.

"Toilet…Warum? What did I ever do?" He moaned, his tone obviously expecting a response.

When the toilet stubbornly refused to answer, Gilbert groaned into the bowl before leaning back flat against the floor, eyes closed to avoid staring straight into the light. _Why the hell had he turned it on anyway?_

Shifting until he found a comfortable position, Gilbert began to do what anyone would do in his situation. He mentally retraced his steps. He started at the bar, hitting on Matthew, rejection…_erm consensual dismissal_, bumping into Roderich, going to get laid, then….then….fuck. The trail turned cold once he got to the point of exiting the taxi. Everything previous had been crystal clear but as soon as he stepped out of the car, things went black and…and ….thinking was not good for hangovers. At least he had woken up inside the apartment. Gilbert had yet to check for any structural or bodily damage as he had rushed to his current position as soon as he could consciously move his body.

Damn. Three beers. _Only. Something_ was seriously wrong with the world. Next thing you know, pigs would fly, Ludwig would be dancing ballet, and Francis would win a fight… Terrifying.

A creak caused him to crack open one near-magenta (they are red, gott verdammt!) eye to peer at the bathroom door-way. In the blurred haze, he could see a black nose nudging at the small opening from where he neglected to close it all the way. With a little effort, the door was soon pushed open enough for a white pile of fur to wriggle in. Four months and counting, the Pyrenees pup seemed larger than usual as it glowered down at him. Dark eyes seemed to stare expectantly at the man.

"Nein, Kuma." Gilbert whimpered out as he slung an arm over his eyes to block out more light and that adorable begging face. The cool linoleum against his back soon garnered all of his affections.

This was apparently an unacceptable response as he was soon peppered in what Matthew called 'kisses'. Whatever kinks the blond had was up to him, but to Gilbert, these were anything but. It was nothing short of facial molestation by the mouth organ of an oversized puppy. The albino man swung many ways…but not _that_ way.

Attempting to avoid the assault, Gilbert rolled facedown, but the puppy found that as an invitation to saunter up and lay atop the foolish human who dared not feed him. That empathetic feeling that pets were supposed to have for those around them was practically non-existent when it came between these two.

"I'm going to give you to that Korean downstairs…" Gilbert mumbled through squished cheeks yet made no motion to move. He hissed in pain when the animal brushed against the back of his head. More jumping and kneeding and yet the German managed to hold fast.

He refused to get off this floor today. Nothing short of a Russian invasion would work.

_Knock Knock Knock._

…or that.

Kuma dashed out of the room with a high pitched bark. The pale man cursed and pretended it never happened. Never. Fucking. Happened.

_ .knock_

There was no mistaking it that time. Whomever it was, they had a strong arm. The sound reverberated through the apartment, clearly making its way into the bedroom bathroom. The sound had irritated someone else too. A shrill chirp could be heard elsewhere in the apartment.

Fuck.

Maybe it was Fed-Ex. He hadn't ordered anything so it must have been for Matthew. In other words, they could leave it outside and _someone_ would pick it up sooner or later. Yup. That sounded like a good plan to-

_BANG!_

"GOTT DAMNIT!" Gilbert bellowed as he shot up in reaction to the noise. Perhaps a little too quickly. The German wobbled on his feet, using the door frame to keep him from greeting the floor with his face.

Mumbling death threats and obscene accusations about parental linage involving goats, Gilbert stumbled his way into the main room, unwillingly noting that the sun was well established in the sky. Wonderful rays of burning star piss filtered through the large bay window that a certain Canadian refused to curtain because '_it's a nice view, Gilbert_.' His eyes refused to open properly, remaining pressed into thin slits.

Kuma was nipping at the bit to get on the other side of the door, pacing and yipping at every little sound. Gilbert wanted nothing more than to punt the noise-box across the border.

The puppy wasn't the only one though. Hanging from the ceiling was a bronze cage containing a frantic canary. Every yip was accompanied by panicked flapping and what he guessed was they bird's way of telling the canine to kindly _fuck off_.

"You're lucky you are cute." He grumbled as he simply nudged the puppy away with his socked foot. Another bang resounded from the other side just as he was about to turn the lock.

"Shut up…I'm opening the damned-…Matthew? Fick Dich! Use your key!" He continued ranting as he quickly turned heel to return to his spot on the bathroom floor. As he stomped off, he ignored the fact that Kuma never stopped barking as per usual. Gilbert did, however, do an about face when a voice he didn't recognize boomed out.

"Who the hell are you?" It demanded.

Well, he was awake now. Unusual eyes snapped open and took a good hard look at the man in the doorway.

White male, blond hair, glasses, early twenties, inching close to six foot even. Right. Now for the difference. Slight tan, shorter hair with some freaky little cowlick, different frames with primary blue eyes, thicker upper body….

Conclusion: Not Matthew.

"Wer zum Teufel _bist du_?" Gilbert mirrored in his native tongue.

* * *

Matthew was used to many thing. Having lived with Gilbert for so long, one learned to cope with sporadic house parties, furniture rearrangements, and ignoring others walk of shame. However, this was a new one.

He should have known after having Kumamanjo meet him at the elevator doors that something was up.

The apartment door was wide open and…God help him if Gilbert wasn't watching one of those old war movies he liked so much.

No such luck.

Gilbert currently had someone in a nearly flawless arm-bar maneuver.

Someone was flailing around under the albino.

Gilbert was shouting what he guessed were questions…who knew? It was in German and just sounded as if he were directing a platoon in battle.

Someone was responding in kind. Matthew found himself nodding along with the outbursts. No. Gilbert was not a Nazi. Yes. He was a fucking prick. No. He needed Gilbert to pay this month's rent, killing him was not an option.

As Matthew made to make a snarky remark as to if this was some kind of fore-play he should be aware of, the stranger managed to get the German to loosen his grip a little, slipping from his grasp.

_Oh well…fuck_

For a moment, the Canadian wondered if anyone would notice if he went in to the bar early to practice mixing drinks…and personally testing them…for science and such.

However, his plans for escape were interrupted by a loud shout of his name.

Coming back down to the present, he saw the blond toss Gilbert to the side and practically crawl over to him.

"Alfred." He tried to sound pleasant…he really did.

If the strain was heard, there was no reaction. Instead, he receive a huge smile which almost negated the fact that he was being clambered up.

"Matt! It's been too long you really should visit me more, you've gotten so big dude!" Alfred exclaimed in a single breath as he enveloped Matthew in a crushing hug.

"Yea..." Matthew gasped out a sort of answer, as he tried peeking over his broad shoulder to check on his roommate. Gilbert_ had_ been thrown a bit hard.

The albino had half his face cradled in one hand. The eye that was exposed looked dazed by the display in front of him.

Matthew shot him a pained grin. Then he noticed something.

"Gilbert. Your eyes are red."

"Yea…usually." Gilbert shot back, subconsciously narrowing his eyes to hide the bloodshot evidence.

Before Matthew could argue, he felt the chest he was pressed into rumble.

"Matthew. I won't allow this!"

"Al..wh-"

The Canadian was suddenly shoved out and held at arm's length. Blue eyes bore into his own, uninhibited by the spectacles that now lay discarded on the floor.

"Matthew. I know you are trying to prove a point, but isn't _this_ a bit..extreme?" Alfred gave a completely unconcealed glance in the direction of a certain albino who had given up on everything for the time being and crawled to drape himself over the couch.

"Wha-"

"I mean, I can see you would want to _sex_periment after everything that happened, but I didn't expect you to actually switch sides!"

Matthew just stared at him, completely confused. Perhaps the amount of Mcdonalds he'd consumed had finally broken him. He had read a study about that once. What the hell –Oh wait.

"Gilbert" Matthew deadpanned. "Did you say you were my 'one-night-stand-turned-booty-call'?" He asked with the confidence of someone with experience.

"No" The German groaned from the couch. Matthew was about to spout something else before Gilbert continued. "I told him I was too good for relationships and I was "the-most-awesome-fuck-that-had-you-seeing-stars-a nd-"

"I get it…" Matthew sighed, knocking Alfred's hands from his shoulders. Well, that explained why they had been in such a position when he walked in. He could already see Alfred's face going red with every word Gilbert said, that cheeky grin of his plastered across his face. A few seconds of silence. Then all Hell probably broke loose. Yup. He needed that drink now.

"You see, Matt! This relationship is destructive and I don't approve and..and…" Alfred let his argument die as mauve eyes gave him a pointed look. It screamed _hypocrite. _He chose to ignore it for the most part, but shut his mouth on the subject.

"Alfred." Matthew started patiently. "Gilbert is very dear _friend_ of mine. We have been _friends_ for a while and are currently _roommates_." He announced, being sure to clarify the situation. "Nothing has or will happen between us as that would compromise our _friendship_."

"But what about that one time-"

"Gilbert!" Matthew growled out with a hint of sugar on his tongue. His voice didn't raise, but the other two flinched simultaneously at the tone. Gilbert gave a nervous breathy laugh while Alfred stared wide eyed at this side of Matthew he was unused to.

There was a tick of complete silence before Kumajirou meandered over to sit beneath the birdcage, sending a hungry glare up to the fluttering chick.

Sighing, Matthew leaned against the door and closed it with a light click. He didn't need his neighbors snooping in on their business.

Especially that odd Greek guy from three doors down.

Or that loud family from Scandinavia…

Or….damn, they really needed to find a new place to live.

"So…who's the creep who looks like you?" Gilbert asked, bringing Matthew from his mental house hunt. The statement caused the blond to furl his brow though.

"This is-"

"I'm Alfred." He announced as if the entire world knew his name. Matthew should have been surprised at the arrogance, but he wasn't. It was only going to be a pissing contest from here.

"Who…" Gilbert sported an unimpressed look.

Alfred on the other hand looked downright heartbroken.

"What?!" He turned to Matthew. "You don't talk about me? Your amazing brother who would do anything for you and loves you and…and…I helped Arthur knit you a sweater for Christmas!"

There was a hissing laugh "That's where that piece of-" Gilbert stopped short at a glare from Matthew. "I mean…Wait. You have a brother?!" Alfred's ranting became wails of despair at the question.

"Two actually. I told you Alfred was coming last night…_at work_."

Gilbert flinched. No way was he admitting that he, of all people, blacked out. "Refresh my memory. You know I had a wild night and-"

"See! This cheating German Nazi is bad for you! All he's doing is-"

"Hey! I'm Prussian arschloch!" Gilbert exclaimed, more for arguments sake than anything.

Matthew dug the heels of his hands into his eyes counting back from ten. "No one listens. Why won't they just listen?" He murmured as the two of them began to once again bicker over the status of Matthew's personal choices. He was ready to give up completely when something caught his eye. "Gilbert….is that…blood?"

"…Huh?"

* * *

After nearly an hour of trying to wheedle information from his brother, all Matthew got were accusations of Gilbert being a murdering gangbanger. Matthew assured and reassured his brother that the German was literally too white to be respected in the mean streets of Detroit. Also, he was far too much of a wimp, which was proved when he attempted to wrap Gilberts head. The scratch was just behind his left ear, barely small enough to not require stitches…or so Matt figured. He was a business man, not pre-med. Still, Gilbert howled and thrashed when Matthew brushed over the accosted area. Pouring rubbing alcohol directly to the wound might have caused that too. Who knows? When asked how he had injured himself, Gilbert went off on random tangents about stupid questions and how unawesome it was to be nosey. The fact that it took all of them so long to even notice spoke volumes for the real severity of the injury. It had only started bleeding again due to the wrestling match. However, once it was pointed out, Gilbert was suddenly demanding compensation from the broader twin. Calling him various names. Only to be shushed by a sharp tug to his nape hairs by Matthew.

When that was out of the way, Matthew could only get a continual stream of variations of 'I'm hungry'…in both English and Spanish. Then in German.

Also a few unneeded retorts from Gilbert. Mostly involving regions unsavory for daytime conversation. The albino had also managed to pick himself up long enough to find a pair of dark sunglasses. Ego be damned. If they found out, more power to them. He just really wanted the light to shut up.

Anyway, the aforementioned Canadian was now angrily banging dishes unnecessarily as he worked to make a gourmet dinner of Kraft for the two freelo - people in the living room. Gilbert winced at every little sound, but tried to save what scraps of pride he had remaining. Matthew knew. Oh he _knew_. Passive-Aggressive little shit.

Then there was the look-alike that was giving him the stare down.

"Was?" He asked.

"I don't know if I like you, Kraut." Gilbert was bit taken aback by the change in demeanor.

"How can you not like the awesome that is I?" He cackled.

Alfred was unamused. Gilbert just repositioned his glasses and lounged, ignoring the sick feeling he got when Kuma decided he needed to jump up and share the couch too.

"He's acting weird because of you." Alfred leaned forward, quickly continuing, not allowing the other to defend himself. Gilbert cocked his head questioningly. Was it really that bad that Matthew was less of a girly-man and more…awesome. "Are you seriously trying to get into Matt's pants?" Alfred hissed.

Gilbert almost wanted to applaud this guy's gay-dar. It was spot on for sure. However, his reasoning was wrong. Perhaps if he had come a few years earlier, he would have been right. When Matthew was a shy little freshman with just a little bit of bite. Oh how he had tried then. Gilbert quickly learned that when a Canadian says 'No, sorry, I am straight', it is not an open invitation to try and change his sexuality. Hockey sticks were made for brute force after all.

But Alfred didn't know that _minute_ detail.

"And if I am?" The German snuggled into the couch, his entire posture as smug as he could be with a fluffy puppy laying on his naked stomach. The other man was far too easy to rile and was straightforward. Unlike his roommate who managed to send you scathing remarks that didn't make sense until you were alone in the shower, suddenly crying as your reevaluate your life choices. Not that he would know. Point being. Picking on the brasher twin was much safer on the psyche if not the body. Kid had a mean kick on him.

"Don't." The blond growled out with a tone that surprised the albino. The seriousness in those eyes was uncharacteristic of what he had seen so far. Was he one of those choir boys that believed in the 'sanctity' of marriage and all that whatnot? Not that cursing and attacking strangers in their own homes was very saintly, but they had been known to have varying interpretations depending on the situation. "He doesn't need that kind of attention."

Gilbert was about to retort that statement when the man in question walked in carrying two steaming bowls of yellow noodles.

"Dinner is served." He said, plopping them down unceremoniously. With on last glance at the albino, Alfred's smile came back ten-fold as he quickly reached for the food.

Only to be stopped by the stab of a fork.

"Matt!" He cried as he cradled his hand in fear after the close call. Gilbert was a bit surprised as well. He eyed his serving like it would bite him. Not that he was all that scared or anything. He just reached for his food a bit more carefully than normal.

When nothing happened, he smiled triumphantly and began the process he called eating. His brother would call it disgraceful.

"Why are you here a day early?" Matthew asked, ignoring the smacking coming from the animal he called a friend. He was used to that. In fact, he knew the German could eat with impeccable manners if he wanted. Gilbert was just doing it to annoy him. And it was working.

When Alfred didn't immediately answer, he pressed him with a raised brow. He was sick of the evasion. He didn't get more than a brief heads up through text. He wanted all the little details of his brother's surprise visit.

Alfred chuckled nervously and shrugged. "You know me, Matt." That obviously wasn't good enough. He sighed. "I was in Beijing and the time difference and all…You know it's technically tomorrow there now!" His words were punctuated with excited arm movements.

Matthew looked a bit disbelieving. "…and when do you leave."

Alfred paused, the information obviously slipping from his mind. "Umm well…." He reached back and pulled a well-protected phone from his pocket. Holding the screen far then close, Alfred squinted as he read off whatever page he had pulled up. "The first of July…or so." He announced with the sweetest grin he could muster.

"Alfred…" Matthew chided as he stood up. He had seen his brother's glasses _somewhere_. "You realize it's the sixth of June right?" He received an enthusiastic head nod. A full month. With his brother in the same town.

Someone shoot him. _Please_

Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, they didn't really get to see each other much and it wasn't like it was long-term….._was it_.

"Umm…_Why _are you in Detroit anyway?" Matthew asked cautiously, bending over to pick up the once-missing glasses.

Alfred's grin wavered a bit. "Sightseeing?" He tried.

"In Detroit?" The Canadian wasn't buying it. He laid the spectacles on the coffee table.

Alfred began grasping at mental straws, but the pause was more than enough to set off warning bells.

Gilbert, on the other hand, had paused his grotesque sounds and was staring without shame, fork hanging from his mouth.

That phone was just released last week. Quite the price tag for a top shelf electronic if he remembered correctly. He had told Matthew that '_one day..one fucking day'_. And Matthew had just rolled his eyes.

His gaze dropped and before a hand enveloped them, he noticed something. The all too well known symbol including the twelfth and twenty-second letter of the English alphabet. Kind of hard to miss with the huge gold etching along the side.

Not that he was snooping.

These were just important things.

You know… things that barely-hanging-on-architects-who-need-to-share-an- apartment notice quite easily. His unusual eyes were watching with rapt attention behind the safety of the shades.

Oblivious of Gilbert's investigation, Alfred finally managed to babble out enough nonsense about the historic auto industry and his room at Atheneum that Matthew let the question slide.

"Now…when does my bro have classes?"

"I already graduated…"

"WHAT WHEN?!"

"…."

It was going to be a_ long_ month.

But at least it was _only_ a month.

* * *

...and chapter done...

Note to self: Deadline when you are about to move are a bad idea.

I wrote this almost two weeks ago. Lost it _twice_ moved. Didn't have internet till this weekend. 80% of this was written in a state of inebriation, then edited the next morning. Can you spot the point where I gave up completely (Hint: It was after the second word)

Anywho. For those who give a damn. I set up a Tumblr so people can hassle me when I forget to write (because I _don't _forget to Tumblr...ever)


	3. Time-Rich & Cash-Poor

**Warnings: Drinking, implied twerking, and bad come-ons**

* * *

Matthew popped in a movie, hoping to keep the 'children' busy while he cleaned up from lunch.

_'So much for the cook doesn't clean'_

By the opening scene, there was a bit of conversation starting up in the living room. A good sign

It was mostly basic information:

_Where ya' from? Milwaukee; Potsdam._

_Work? This and that; Building the most badass shit known to man._

_Sports? Baseball; Ha! Seriously?!_

_Beer? Coors; That piss-_

And the Canadian interjected there with a bowl of popcorn to split. There were some things that need not be debated in the presence of breakables. Beer being one of them.

The distraction was a success and after a moment he deemed it safe enough exit the room to shower and change.

As an afterthought, he took the time to drop a five into a jar on the kitchen table nearly bursting with various types of bills. Chicken scratch penmanship labeled the container as 'Matthew's Tease Jar'. Said man had kept count, knowing there was just around seventy-three…no…seventy-eight dollars in there now.

And Gilbert had just emptied it at the end of April.

Had been on a roll in May.

June was turning out to be promising for the albino's wallet as well…though not for his libido.

By the time the characters on T.V had found an abandoned truck full of Snowballs rather than Twinkies, the two on the couch were intently swapping their own zombie apocalypse survival secrets and Matthew had managed to slip out the front door undetected.

He had things to do and his brother _had_ come unexpectedly. _How did he even know my address?_

Alfred would be here for a while anyway. _Why…just why?_

Plus, he was probably tired from his flight from Beijing. _What the hell was he doing there anyway?!_

The further he got from the apartment, the less he believed his own excuses for why it was okay to leave and wanted to go back to properly host his brother.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), he was pulling out the keys to his personal little hole in the wall just before the guilt could get too heavy.

Plus, he didn't want to give into that itch in the back of his mind telling him he was an idiot for trusting his home to those two.

It's not like they weren't adults.

* * *

"Maaaattttttttt….I'm boreeeed!" Alfred whined as the credits rolled on the third movie, Paranormal something or other. He hadn't really paid attention.

Gilbert's eyes cracked open as he tried to sleepily glare at the noisy man from the couch. The blond had only just stopped screaming in fear long enough for him to drift off.

"Matt?" He tried again, turning around to try to locate his brother.

Still no answer.

"Dude, this ain't funny." Matthew's bedroom door was left open and there was no sight of him anywhere.

Gilbert sat up, looking around too. "Did he leave?"

"Door is right there, we would have seen him go, right?"

The two shared a look before glancing at the television. Nervous laughter filled the empty air.

They were grown men and totally not freaked out.

* * *

Matthew sneezed as he put some imports on ice. He wrinkled his nose as the feeling lingered.

"Gezondheid" Lars interjected as he replaced some old wires. "Someone's talking about you."

The Canadian's laugh was genuine until it tapered off into a more anxious sound. "Let's hope not."

The Dutchman shot a questioning look, but never got an answer as Matthew's phone began to serenade him with polytones.

"Hello?" Within seconds, the phone was pulled as far away from his face as possible.

"Al…Al….ALFRED! I'm not dead. I answered the phone…No, I'm not being held at gunpoint...No, that is not what they want me to say…Gilbert knew I had to go into work...He said I was _what_…Al, breathe please…No, I don't need the distractions here…Yes, I do mean you."

There were a few more exchanges before the Canadian made up the excuse of his boss needing him and ended the conversation.

It took a full five seconds before Lars realized he _really_ didn't want to know.

Matthew just rested his head on the bar and took deep breaths.

_They are adults. It'll be okay._

* * *

"Yo, Gilbert, can you substitute baking soda for flour?"

"Umm….yes?" Gilbert said in a completely unsure tone. Matthew usually cooked when it came to building from scratch. He could make a mean Konigsberger klopse, but baking was a new dimension.

Alfred shrugged and tossed his ingredients together into a large mixing bowl. He had a hankering for some cake and he didn't know any good local bakeries. The nearest one that Gilbert suggested was over ten miles away anyway. Too far, plus building his own would be all the sweeter, right? Thus he had gotten Gilbert's blessing to create his own.

Not that the German really gave a damn, he just wanted to stay on the couch and continue to nurse a beer he had swiped from the fridge. Alfred had looked at his odd at first, but conceded after the German explained his reasoning. Best way to treat a bad hangover. Hair of the dog.

Copious amounts of red food coloring mixed with a clumsy hand had created a small problem as Kuma now looked as though he had savagely killed a small creature.

"Oops!" Alfred exclaimed as more of the mixture fell to the floor. Inconspicuously, he nudged the puppy over to the mess, grinning when it was all licked up.

Who needed mops when you had pets?

* * *

Matthew lounged against the bar waiting for his test subject to _stop being such a little bitch and drink it._

Being the said test subject, Lars just glared and the ugly blue-green creation. Matthew had finished setting up most everything far too early and had started experimenting. However, this time…

"And it's called-"

"Dirty Bong Water. Now drink." Matthew pressed.

Lars wanted to turn it down, too many memories associated with the name, but at the same time, he had eagerly volunteered to test all drink concoctions on day one.

_'Hier gaat niets….'_

* * *

"Oh God! I think it's alive!"

"Scheiße! Was ist das?!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

* * *

Doing on last once over, Matthew deemed the place ready for the night. He checked the last set of hoses before taking a seat to enjoy a small break since they still had an hour before open.

Lars joined him shortly after, sipping on his second drink.

Matthew raised a brow.

"Shut up" The Dutchman commanded.

"Didn't say a word." He smirked, ignoring the glare he received. "But if I did, I would say you like it."

"You still need to change the name."

"Not happening."

* * *

Alfred and Gilbert sat in the center of the kitchen. All around them were pieces of red and black. Kuma was having a field day, eating every reachable bit of splattered food. His natural color was almost completely covered by the dye that turned him pink. Gilbird fluttered around in alarm as a thin layer of smoke caused the fire alarm to scream at the occupants.

Neither of the men moved for a long while.

"It grew so fast. It was like…like…" Alfred stuttered with a haunted look on his face.

"Die Augen! It looked into my soul." Gilbert was no better off, however, his hair fared no better than the puppy, diminishing the effect.

A few moments of heavy breathing was broken when the two decided to get off the floor. Gilbert cleared his throat and went to grab a chair and turn off the smoke alarm.

Alfred went for the windows. Both of them flinched as Kuma ran and slid into the cabinets.

"Take-out?" Gilbert suggested?

"Yup." Alfred agreed as soon as the syllable was spoken. He jumped over to the coffee table to retrieve his phone while Gilbert went to put on proper clothing.

* * *

The witching hour came with a bang as Lars dropped the beat on the throngs of people grinding around him. It was a good night. Finals had just finished and every student legal (and some not so much) had apparently made it their goal to drink away everything they had learned that semester.

With the way the crowd was acting, it was working.

Poor Matthew was working up a sweat keeping everyone happy. A party of twelve attending a twenty-first as well as a large group joining in on the last night of their friend's legal debauchery (if the bridesmaid sashes were anything to go by) were just a drop in the bucket. Without looking, Matthew knew his associate was grinning at him.

After all, Matthew was the one who denied the fact that _an extra hand around the bar won't kill you, man._ Right. However, the fact that he suggested hiring his sister, fresh off the boat and straight from Ghent University, was a little disturbing. He'd heard stories of this fabled sister, but if she was anything like her brother…

…Who was currently swaying for questionable reasons…

...but then again, he could use the help…badly.

He had little time to think on the subject as a familiar face appeared.

"Privet."

"Umm…Yea. Hey Ivan." He paused, about to use a typical line when someone came to the bar. "Vodka?" His tone was only slightly questioning.

"Nyet." Well that was new.

Matthew let out a small sound that sounded like a mix of 'oh' and 'please don't kill me'.

Rather than letting the Canadian escape to his work, Ivan dropped a question. "I hear you have a brother who is visiting now. This is very true, da?"

The blond felt a shot of ice go through him. "What are-…" He choked on the question. The Russian had a look that _dared_ him to disagree. "A-are you sure you don't want that drink?" The question was pressed out in desperation to change the subject.

This only caused a lop-sided grin from the other man. "Da, I think I will." Eyes followed Matthew through every motion as unsteady hands poured the clear liquid.

Matthew was internally cursing his brother in two different languages. Actually. Make that three. Lars had taught him a few choice words. He had spent many years trying to fall f_ar_ off the Russian's radar after that tryst with Katyusha.

And what happens when he figured he was finally in the clear? Alfred…did something?

Wait. Why _did_ Ivan know? More so, why did he care?

The Russian man smiled behind his glass as he observed Matthew as he struggled with a line of thought, almost positive he knew exactly where the Canadian's mind was caught. He had to hand it to the bartender for holding his tongue instead of actually asking.

"Matvey," The blond shuddered at the translation of his name "you are smart, da? So very smart." Here the Russian gentle put the glass down and leaned forward to be heard clearly. "I like the smart ones."

Matthew stood stalk still as Ivan pulled back, a childish grim plastered on his face. "Ah! Look at that!" Ivan pointed off onto the dance floor.

Matthew ignored whatever it was in favor of damning his brother to the deepest ring of hell.

Somewhere on the edges of his conscience, he could hear Lars shouting out.

"No twerking on the speakers! Feet on the floor!"

* * *

"Oi! Franny! Toni! Over here!" Gilbert waved enthusiastically from his booth at the two who had just entered the bar.

"What happened to your hair amigo? It's pink!" Antonio pointed out immediately, only to be hissed at by the albino.

"Gilbert! It has been too long, oui? We should…" The blond Frenchman trailed off noticing the person beside his friend. "Oh Matthew! Tu as un fesses fermes.." He slid in beside his target, hand falling to the mentioned area "comme toujo-AHHHH" Francis was unable to finish his pickup as a sharp pain struck through his body starting where a rough grip had bent back his wrist.

"I dunno what you're playing at here, _buddy_." Alfred spat with venom.

Across the table, Gilbert was doubled over, head falling against the polished wood. Beside him, a wide-eyed Spaniard slipped in.

"That's…h-h-his b-b-bruder." The German managed to gasp out before falling over as a new round of squeals came from the Frenchman.

"Ay?! Our Canadian chico has a brother?!" Antonio asked with a tilt of his head.

Alfred huffed indignantly as he got the same reaction as he did with Gilbert. Was Matt ashamed of him or something? It wasn't like they were fighting.

Anymore…

Francis, having pulled his hand away, began to mumble about heathens and sweet Canadian's. "You could have said something sooner." He pouted. "And to think I kept last night quiet."

Gilbert immediately straightened, somber. "You know what happened?!"

A predatory grin flashed over Francis face. "Oui." And added before the albino could ask. "What are you willing to give for this information?"

Alfred tuned out the negotiations and Antonio's over-eager ordering to shake off a bad feeling that was creeping down his spine.

* * *

**So...I was MIA for a bit. Ooops. I should be back on track now. Not that I'm promising anything. The whole NSA vs. World thing is hell on a International Areas major. Kinda short due to the massive number of papers I've had to write recently. Props to anyone who can guess the movies they watched. (Yes I have tried to sub soda for flour...don't)**

**Konigsberger klopse: A Prussian dish. I've had it twice. Once it was heaven. Once is was food poisoning. So I'm on the fence.**

**Dirty Bong Water: Raspberry liquor, spiced rum, amaretto, Blue Curacao, and sweet and sour...This was my weekend.**

**"Tu as un fesses fermes...comme toujours": You have a firm ass...like always (I'm still in beginning French, so feel free to correct.)**


End file.
